Before The Surface
by Noda2
Summary: Conjecture story about what was going to happen in "Beneath The Surface"  S/J


_**Before The Surface**_

Summary: SG-1 have had their memories erased and are used as forced labor in an underground mine on an arctic planet.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Author's Note (Deb): Someone gave a challenge regarding what we think Beneath the Surface will be like. This is my answer.

Author's Note (Noda): I was intrigued with this story when Deb first posted it to the Sam and Jack list, and eagerly awaited her conclusion. When she posted it to her site, claiming the rest of the story was "up for grabs," I took the opportunity to put my spin on her tale. I hope I have done her idea justice.

**-2010 Story Notes-: **As you can see, this was a challenge story, written before "Beneath The Surface" aired, and now, years later I'm finally getting around to posting it. It appeared in a 'zine, but I don't recall the 'zine's title.

*Before the Surface *By Deb

I stare down the ice tunnel with glazed eyes, carrying the tools needed to complete my task at hand...the same task I've had my entire life. Well, at least the only life I remember. I don't know where I'm from, if I have friends and family who miss me, or who I am. Well, I know my name is Samantha, but that's about it.

I guess I've committed some sort of crime and am living out my sentence as a laborer on this ice...place. I'm underground, so for all I know there is a tropical paradise on the surface. Of course, there could also be nuclear holocaust.

I wonder what I did to deserve this punishment. I guess I'll never know. I just wish I could remember something, anything, from my life before this place. I know I didn't grow up down here, otherwise I'd have memories of my childhood, of my parents. But nothing, I can recall nothing of my life beyond a few weeks ago.

Life here is hard. It's cold, dangerous, desolate. Sure there are hundreds of other...prisoners...here, but I really don't feel the desire to get to know any of them. I'm greatly outnumbered here...as far as being a woman. If I see one other woman a day, I consider myself lucky. Fortunately, I haven't had too much problems with unwanted advances from the men here. The guards seem to think that if a man has time for a woman, he is slacking his obligations as a miner.

Of course evenings are a different story. Usually, I just keep to myself. If I get propositioned, they usually give up after I tell them 'no.' Of course that means I'm not making any new friends here, but that's OK with me. Before I know it, I'm at my destination. I set my tools on the ground and take in my surroundings. This is a new area for me. I notice with trepidation that a small underground river is nearby, with ice flows and all. Water is a death sentence down here. It's cold enough when you're dry, but if you got soaked with water...well...it's game over. You'd freeze to death before the night was over. Of course if you got close enough to a fire pit, you might have a chance, but fire pits and their associated warmth are few and far between. Only the crew leaders get a fire pit in their room. Come to think of it, only the crew leaders get their own rooms. The rest of us sleep, eat, and bathe in a common area. Very limited privacy.

I look around at the other workers as I begin to study some of the ore that has been mined already. Mining this mineral isn't easy, but it's not like any of us have a choice. Most of the others are ending their day. I, unfortunately, need to work a bit longer to make up for the time I wasted getting from my old assignment to here.

Sighing, I return my gaze to the ore, trying to determine if it is worth the continuation of mining. All of a sudden I feel a pair of eyes on me. I do not need this hassle today. I don't want to be out here all night and knowing that some man, or men, are leering at me makes me nervous. I throw a cautious glance to the river, a mere fifteen feet beside me, as I try to refocus my attention on the ore.

I begin to study the ore more carefully and then suddenly, I halfway hear someone shouting something. I turn towards that person just as one of the smaller mineral carts slams into me, disorienting me. As I see a couple men rush over to grab the cart, I realize at the moment before I hit the icy water, that I have lost my footing.

I hear myself yelling for help, although I know its futile. No one is going to risk getting wet and dying to help me out. My clothing, which normally doesn't seem to be enough usually, feels like a ton of bricks as the soaked fabric begins to pull me down under the water. Panic begins to set in, but I manage to make it to the shore. I pull my numb body up onto solid land and struggle to remain conscious. A struggle I soon lose.

I run to the shore of the ice river, trying to help the woman who fell in. It's my fault. It's my responsibility to watch this labor site. And I usually do. But I have had trouble paying attention since the blonde woman appeared. All the men here notice when any woman is near by, but this one...the one with a smile like sunshine (which is an amazing fact given where we are) is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen...well that I can remember seeing anyway. I can only remember life since I first came to this place.

I turn the woman over onto her back and check to make sure she is breathing. Good, she is. Her lips are turning blue from cold and I know that if I don't get her warm soon, she will die.

I look up at the work site and see that the last of the laborers have filed back to the common area. I look up at the guards. I know they expect her to have finished her work, but give me a break. She's nearly dead, for cryin' out loud. I see the guards turn their backs so I know they recognize the reality of the situation. This woman is not going to be working anymore today.

I scoop the unconscious woman into my arms and start off towards my room. I know I will have to answer to this sector's warden for my irresponsibility...it did, after all, affect work output. They want to know if this area is indeed worth mining and now they will have to wait for this woman to recover or they'll have to bring in another...scientist person thing person. Whatever the people who determine what is in the ore are called.

I make it back to my room and lay the woman down on my bed. She is now shivering and her teeth are chattering. I stoke the fire and find a dry towel. Quickly, I pull her boots and socks off. I feel guilty as a remove her jacket, pants and shirt. This woman doesn't know me and she isn't even conscious to give me permission. I soon realize that _*all*_ of her clothes are soaked from the icy water. Sighing, I lay the towel down over her and remove the rest of the wet material.

As I begin to dry her off, her eyes open. She doesn't quite look lucid. I quietly try to reassure her that everything is OK and that I won't hurt her. I'm not sure if she really understood what I was saying, but she nodded and closed her eyes again. I finish drying her off and tucked her into my bed. I see her snuggle down into the warm and dry blankets as she starts to shiver again. I look around my sparse room, wishing I had more blankets. I decide to put on a kettle of water to make soup. Hopefully that will warm her up.

Once the kettle is heating, I begin to hang up her wet clothes around the fire to dry. They are absolutely soaked and will probably take more than a day to completely dry. After that chore is done, I sit down to wait for the water to boil. I stare at the sleeping woman and think that, even though she is resembling a drowned rat, she truly is beautiful. I also can't help but think she looks familiar...vaguely. Maybe I knew her in a previous life.

"Where am I?"

The weak voice grabs my attention from the random thoughts floating through my brain. I slowly turn around to see a confused and cold woman. Quietly, I crouch down next to my bed, watching the nervous woman as I do so. I softly speak to her.

"It's OK. This is my room. I brought you here after you fell into the river."

She doesn't respond. "Do you remember that happening?" I watch as she scans her recent memories and slowly realization comes.

"Yeah...vaguely."

She sounds tired and weak. "I didn't want you to freeze to death."

"Thanks."

I see her looking around my room, sizing it up. It's not much. A single room, a bed, a barrel-shaped metal container in the center of the room that doubles as a fireplace and a stove, a wash basin and toilet in the far corner. I guess I need to put up some sort of partition to provide some privacy. She continues her survey until she reaches her still wet clothes hanging near the fire.

"I guess that explains why I am naked." The sudden comment confuses me for a moment, but I regain my thoughts.

"Uh, yeah." I begin sheepishly. "Your clothes were soaked. I had to take them off of you to dry you off...and to let them dry. I swear to you," I say, suddenly overwhelmed with a desire for this woman to trust me, "I kept you covered while I was drying you off and I didn't do anything to you or touch you unnecessarily..." I shamefully look up from the ground, which I had suddenly found extremely interesting, to find the woman smiling at me. "What?"

"I believe you." She says confidently. "I don't know why. I don't even know you."

The realization that I never introduced myself finally occurred to me. "I'm Jack." I say as I offer my hand.

"Samantha." the woman replies as she cautiously takes my hand. Feeling her skin in my hand I discover that she is still very much cold.

"Oh, I was heating some water to make soup for you."

She smiles again. "Thanks... You have running water here in these rooms?"

"Huh? Oh, no. I mean, the toilets flush, but we don't have faucets or anything. We take blocks of ice to melt."

"Oh."

I get up to get the now boiling water. I continue on as I mix the soup. "I know this place doesn't look like much, but it is better than the common areas. You're welcome to stay here from now on." I mentally slap myself. _*I*_ know my intentions are sincere, but this woman doesn't know me from Job. She probably thinks I want...things...from her. I quickly try to change the subject. I hand her the bowl of soup and a spoon. She sits up, careful to keep the blanket covering her, and takes the soup from me.

"Ummm. Smells good." She begins to eat the warm, slightly-flavored liquid.

"Yeah, well, I can't really cook, but my melted ice is to die for." I say with a smile.

She suddenly stops, her spoon midway between the bowl and her lips. "What?" "That was a joke. I was trying to lighten the mood." God this woman must hate me. She shakes whatever she was thinking out of her mind and resumes eating.

"Yeah, I know. I just...it's nothing." She eats some more. "This soup is doing the trick. I'm feeling much better."

"Good."

"Aren't you eating?"

"I will after you're done." Seeing her questioning look, I figure I should explain. "This is a room for one. One bed, one bowl, one spoon..."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll hurry."

"Hey, no, it's OK. Take your time." I can tell she isn't going to, so I figure I better give her a reason not to rush. "Look, tell you what. I'm gonna go see if I can hunt down _*something*_ for you to wear while your clothes are drying. I'd offer you something of mine, but all I have are my work clothes," I say as I point to them, "and my sleep clothes," I continue as I motion to the heavy shirt and sweat pants I'm wearing. "That's all. Nothing else." I get up to leave. As I open the door, I turn back and tell her that I'll knock before I come back in, so feel free to 'use the facilities.' I exit as I see her smile and nod.

I watch as the man leaves the room. I should be feeling _*very*_ vulnerable right now. I do, a little, but not as much as I think I should. This man...this...Jack...seems I don't know...different from most of the other men I've had to deal with so far.

I finish the soup and get up to use the 'bathroom' (and I use the term loosely). My limbs feel stiff and a little sore. So do my fingers and toes. I pace the room, trying to get my circulation going, keeping a careful eye on the door and staying somewhat close to the bed...in case I need to make I dive for the covers. Suddenly I hear a knock on the door as I make a dive for the bed.

"Samantha?" I hear through the door, "can I come in?"

"Yes." I call out.

I watch as Jack enters the room. I have to chuckle as I notice he has a hand over his eyes. I already said it was OK to enter, and he still makes sure he doesn't see anything he 'shouldn't.' But I immediately notice something is wrong. I ask him about it.

"There's a problem."

He sits on the edge of the bed. He first apologizes for not being able to find me some clothes. Apparently, everyone is confined to their living areas, so he had to return. From what he gathered, there had been an actual escape from here. I didn't think anyone ever escaped from here. But some big, dark-skinned guy with a gold tattoo on his forehead did. Well, that's what some people are saying, others say the man was killed. Regardless, I'm stuck here, with this guy named Jack, in his room, for at least two days.

On the plus side, this will give me extra time to recuperate before I have to go back to work. I feel a shift in movement next to me and I turn to see Jack taking off his shirt. I'm frozen with an unexplained fear. I don't feel like this guy will hurt me, but why is he? Oh. I suddenly feel guilty for thinking my previous thoughts as I take Jack's offered shirt.

"This will have to do, for now," he dejectedly admits. I think he really wanted to help me get something to wear. I put on his shirt, suddenly overwhelmed by his scent, and shiver. "Here," he says as he covers me more snugly, "You're still cold. I wish I had more blankets for you."

I look into his sad eyes and realize something. "What are you going to do for warmth?" I ask, suddenly concerned for this man. "Oh, I'll be fine. I'll just lay be the fire..."

Yeah, right. This guy is going to lay on a cold floor...no blanket to lay on, no blanket to cover him. No shirt to keep him warm, for cryin' out loud.

I can't believe I hear the words coming out of my mouth, "No, you need to sleep in the bed." He starts to protest, saying he would feel awkward and that I should have privacy, blah, blah, blah. Sure he's right, but I don't want the guy who saved me from death to freeze himself.

I smile and tell him that it's OK, and that the added warmth of shared body heat will help keep us warm. He finally relents and climbs into bed. You would think I was a china doll the way he cautiously spooned up behind me. The added warmth does feel great...so does the feel of this man behind me. God help me for trusting this stranger, but I can't help it. I shiver again, from the cold or from his proximity, I'm not sure. But he interprets it as cold and pulls me closer to him...and I can't help but feeling closer to myself.

~Noda's conclusion~

I slept more soundly that night than I had since coming to this place. Maybe it was having a woman in my arms. Surly I'd had someone before this, a relationship with a woman. I just can't seem to remember. It seems as though that's how most of my memories are-vague, shadowy-like I'm on the edge of remembering something before the thought is swallowed by the fog.

When I first lay next to Samantha, I was almost afraid to touch her, scared of seeming too bold. But as she relaxed against me, I found my arm pulling her closer with a little more certainty. Now my arm is draped possessively over her stomach, my palm tight against her abdomen, fingers inches away from . . . . _*Don't even think about it, Jack,*_ I admonish myself, trying to move my hand back slowly so I don't wake her.

Normally, we would have been up, working, hours ago, but since the escape attempt yesterday, we've all been "secured" for at least two days while the guards prevent others from taking advantage of the confusion and making a break for it. The down time isn't a vacation. We'll have to make up for the lost work once we're put back to our labors, but for the moment, I don't care. If it means being allowed to remain in this cocoon of warmth I share with this woman, this Samantha, then I'll dig until my fingers bleed.

She moves then, stretching and sighing, then stiffening slightly once she realizes where she is. Turning her head, she shyly greets me.

"Morning."

"Good morning," I return, helpless to stop the smile crossing my face as I look down on her sleepy face and tousled hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you. I don't think I've been this warm since I came here," she smiles back. "What time is it?" she asks. Time is actually relative since we're underground. The only difference between day and night is when the lights are on. It's obvious we're in "day" mode now. There are interval chimes that help us track our day; the only way to measure time in this frozen world.

"I'd guess about half-way through the third chime," I say, retaining my hold on her.

"Third?" She cries, bolting upright. "I'm late! We're both late!"

"Relax," I say, pulling her down to the bed once more, sucking in a breath as the cold air hits my chest. "I'm your boss, remember? Besides, they've suspended work for two cycles because of the escape attempt."

"That's right," she says, lying down once more. "I guess I'm a little disoriented."

We lay together in an awkward silence. Somehow, now it seems too intimate to put my arm around her, but I find myself wanting to. To pull her close once more and fall back into a contented sleep.

I feel the blankets rustle and another rush of cold air as she tries to get out of bed while holding down the edge of my shirt. Watching as she climbs unsteadily to her feet, I'm by her side in an instant as her legs buckle.

"I must not be as strong as I thought," she says, giving me a rueful smile.

"Let me help you," I offer. I can see she'd rather not accept the assistance. She's proud and admitting she could use a hand is hard for her. But by the same token, she's not stupid. She knows when she needs a little help.

"Thanks," she says as I guide her to the "bathroom."

Turning my back to allow her what privacy I can, I check her clothing by the fire. Still too wet to wear in the cold climate of the mine. I stoke the fire, not only to facilitate the drying of her laundry, but warm the cubicle I call home. I really can't complain. It's better than most of the workers here get, and there are times I'm resented for it. For the most part, people respect my authority, so I haven't had to defend my right to better quarters, but I wonder how long that will last. If Samantha accepts my offer at moving in with me, I'll have one more thing the general population doesn't-my own fire, and my own woman. Not that I think of Samantha as "mine" per se, but if she stays with me, she'll be perceived as such. This could be a good or a bad thing, depending on how you look at it.

Jack has really been incredibly polite, and I feel bad I was so apprehensive of him last night. Well, how I was I to know he was the one honorable guy here? I still don't know much about him, but for some inexplicable reason, I feel safe with him. Not just him, but safe in general, like my existence here just got a whole lot easier, having someone to share it with. Yesterday, I was leery of his invitation to stay, but now I find myself grateful for his offer. Just having another person I can talk to without worrying if he's going to make a move on me takes an incredible weight off my shoulders.

Walking up beside him, I finger my drying clothes. "They're still pretty damp."

"Yeah. Probably best if you wait for them to dry completely before you put them on."

I nod in agreement as I wrap my arms around myself, trying to retain some heat, but it's nearly impossible with bare feet on a cold stone floor.

"You're shivering again," he chides me. "Get back into bed, and I'll make you some more soup." When I don't move fast enough he adds with a smile, "That's an order!" For some reason the command sounds familiar, but I shake it off. After all, he _*is*_ the supervisor of my section. I've probably heard him say the phrase before.

Lying under the covers, I watch him attending to melting ice for the soup. He has better facilities for food, too, I notice. We get hot food once a week, otherwise it's meal bars passed out before we begin our shift. There's one at the morning break, then a type of sandwich for lunch and more meal bars for dinner. Not a lot of variety in our diet, so the soup is practically a gourmet treat.

"Aren't you going to have some?" I ask as he hands me all of the soup.

"I'm not really hungry. You go ahead," he says, crawling under the blankets again. I know he's lying. He's as cold and hungry as I am. He's just being polite again. I eat about half, declaring myself full, insisting he finish the meal. Only when he seems certain I won't eat more does he take the pot from me.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask.

"You mean do I have some kind of ulterior motive?" he smiles, knowing I'm thinking I'm going to "owe" him, and that I have only one method of payment. "I don't want that," he assures me. "I mean, it's not that I _*don't*_ want. . .it's just that. . ."

"It's okay, Jack. I know what you mean." It's the first time I've called him by name, and it feels a little odd. Not wrong, just. . .different. I smile a bit at him and say, "you're the nicest guy I've met here. I don't know how to thank you for all you've done for me. No one else even bothered to try to save me. They were willing to let me freeze in that water and get swept downstream. You don't know me. How come you risked your life to save me?"

Jack looked down, then shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. I guess I felt responsible because it happened on my shift. And. . .and I noticed you when you joined my crew," he adds shyly.

I felt my face flush with heat and knew I was blushing. I had to admit, I'd noticed him as well, and not just because he was my supervisor. It seemed odd to be sitting in bed with this man, blankets wrapped around us, our bare feet touching, and being too timid to admit I find him attractive.

"How long have you been a supervisor?" I ask, trying to ease some of the tension that's risen between us. He seems to realize what I'm doing, and allows himself to be distracted by my question.

"I don't know. I guess I've always been one. I don't really remember anything else."

I shifted on the bed so I was facing him. "Don't you find that odd? I don't remember anything about before either. I mean, I must have done something like this because it seems familiar, and yet it doesn't. And why can't I remember a childhood? Parents? Any kind of a life outside of this mine?"

"Maybe you were born here."

"Then where are the children? And shouldn't I have _*some*_ recollection of being young?" Jack's face screwed up, almost as if thinking about my questions makes his head hurt.

"I guess I never really thought about it," he says, looking up at me. "But you're right. We couldn't have _*always* _been here. There has to have been a place prior to this. Maybe when they put us here, they did something to our minds so we can't remember our lives before."

"That's what I was thinking," I said, pulling the blankets up to cover my shoulders. My back was still cold, and the only way I can warm it is to lie back down, or sit against Jack. Either position would make me feel vulnerable. But wasn't I already vulnerable? Here I was, clad only in Jack's shirt, sitting in a bed with him. I hadn't been this close to anyone for more than a few seconds since I've been here. Or at least for as long as my memories tell me I've been here. I must have been squirming too much for Jack's liking, because he turns me around, pulling my back to his chest.

"That better?" he asks. As I felt the warmth of his body, his arms surrounding me, I can't help but think just _*how*_ much better it is.

I don't know what prompted me to pull Samantha into my arms as I did, but I was pleasantly surprised when she leaned against me willingly. She seems to have relaxed a bit in my presence, and I'm glad. Even though I find her attractive-hell, even more than attractive-I don't want her to think I'm going to jump her bones the minute I get the chance. I know that's what she thought at first, so I hope I settled that little matter.

She brought up some interesting points about the memories, though. Can't say I really thought about it before, but she's right. It _*is*_ odd all we can remember is the here and now.

"How do you think they do it?" I ask her, trying to ignore how good her hair smells. Funny how her brief swim in the icy river washed away most of the grit. Maybe she hasn't been here all that long. I'd almost take a dip in that river myself if I could feel clean again. Almost. Maybe if Samantha were waiting to warm me up. . . .

"Do what?" she asks me, sounding almost as distracted as I feel.

"Erase our memories, or suppress them. Maybe there's something in the meal bars?" She's silent for a moment, her head cocked slightly to one side as she thinks.

"I don't think it's the food, at least not initially. Supervisors get a better diet than we do, and you don't seem to know any more than the rest of us. About our situation, that is," she's quick to add.

I shift a little behind her. I've been accused of getting better treatment, and it hasn't bothered me. At least before. Now I feel self-conscious about my extra rations and heat. I want her to think well of me, and I'm not sure flaunting my "wealth" has done that. It wasn't a deliberate action on my part. I have things that will help her recover. I wasn't thinking about how my situation might look when I was trying to save her life.

"It sounds like you've thought about this memory thing quite a lot," I say.

"Well, it's not like I have much else to occupy my mind. I find myself wondering what the mineral we're digging is used for. I don't even know what it's called. I seem to be looking for traces of it everywhere, trying to find more efficient ways of mining it. It seems like we waste so much time digging rocks that have none of the mineral. I would think if there was a better method of finding it, we'd accomplish more."

I laugh and pull her closer. "Sounds like _*you*_ should be the supervisor, not me! Either that or working with one of those science types that show up down here from time to time. They do pretty much what you're talking about. Assess where new tunnels should be dug, going over all their numbers. Me? All I care about is that we meet our quota and no one gets hurt," I said, nudging her head playfully with mine.

I can't see her face, but I bet she's smiling. She doesn't try to move away from when I pull her nearer, and I find I have to fight the desire to place my lips on her exposed neck. Laying my head back against the cold wall, I hardly notice the bare skin of my back resting on the same cold wall. I have to move before she feels the evidence of my desire. I don't want to shatter this fragile rapport we've developed.

I don't know why I feel so drawn to her when essentially I've just met her. Sure, I was watching her, but I shouldn't be having these intense feelings for her after barely meeting her. I wonder if I knew her before, somehow.

"Well, I don't know about being a supervisor or a scientist," she says, bringing me out of my thoughts. "I just feel like I should be doing something else. Something bigger, more important, I guess. Don't you ever feel like that?" she asks, twisting her head around to look into my eyes.

"I guess, maybe," I say, shrugging my shoulders. "It doesn't really matter, though."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, we're here. Not much we can do about that."

Samantha is silent for a moment, then almost whispers, "have you ever thought about trying to escape?"

"You mean like that big guy who broke out of here yesterday? Yeah, I do," I confess. "But then I think about the people I'd leave behind. Most likely they'd be punished if I got away. At the very least they'd have to take up my slack. I don't want to do that to anyone. Especially you." My candidness with Samantha surprises me. I'm not usually this forthcoming with such personal information, but there's just something about her that makes me feel I can trust her. Not only with my thoughts of possible escape, but with my emotions as well.

"You could take me with you," she says, giving me a quick, almost bashful glance. Even after the short time I've known her, I know there is no way I'd leave this place and not take her with me. I don't even want her to live among the general population while I'm around, let alone what she might suffer if I wasn't here to watch out for her. Granted, she's done fine on her own-better than most of the women-but it doesn't mean it'll last. All it would take is one Neanderthal to break her spirit, and I can't stand the thought of seeing those eyes dull and lifeless.

"Samantha, if I go, you're definitely coming with me," I assure her, hoping I'm not sounding too possessive. She looks up and smiles at me again, fighting a yawn. I forgot how exhausted she still must be and insist she lay down and try to get more rest.

"You're not going, are you?" she asks, pulling the covers around her. I grin at her almost-invitation.

"No, I think I could use a little more sleep myself. Seems like I never get enough." I lay down next to her and she moves into my arms, almost as if she's done it forever, and I find myself having to fight the goofy smile that keeps threatening to break out over my face. Life has certainly improved in the last twenty-four hours.

Once again I'm surprised how easily I accept this man's arms around me, almost as if they belong there. He's right, I am still tired, but I fight it because I want to talk to him some more. I can't believe I actually talked to him about possibly escaping. He _*is*_ a supervisor, after all! How do I know he won't report me? He _*did*_ sound like he's thought about it himself, but what if it was just a ruse? A way to gain my trust so I condemn myself? I can't believe he'd be duplicitous like that. I usually have a good feel for people, and he's never struck me as having a hidden agenda. In fact, his declaration he wouldn't leave me here made me feel even closer to him. I just wish I knew what it was about him that makes me trust him so implicitly.

I should be sleeping, but my mind won't shut down. Now I'm thinking about getting out of here and where we'd go once we did. We. I've never been part of a "we." It's always been just me, and frankly, the idea scares me a little. If you start to care about someone, you become vulnerable in more ways than one. Can I afford that? Maybe I should put an end to this before whatever "this" is gets a firm hold. I should get my clothes and leave. Go back to the alcove I've claimed as mine before someone else takes it.

I turn over and look at Jack. He looks younger in his sleep. Not that he seems old to me, it's just that some of the weight he carries must slip away during slumber. I reach up, caressing his stubbly cheek with my hand. He leans into the gentle touch, and I'm tempted to kiss him. Instead I settle for a light peck on the same cheek I'm cradling.

"Good-bye, Jack," I whisper. "Thank you for everything you've done for me." I slide from the warmth of his arms and the bed, crossing to my icy clothes. They're mostly dry now, but still colder than Jack's shirt. I wish I could take it with me, but that wouldn't be fair. He needs his shirt, especially when he returns to work after tomorrow.

I dress quietly as I can, hoping my chattering teeth don't wake him. It's going to be a challenge to return to my alcove while the mine is supposed to be secured, but not impossible. I've been watching the patterns of the guards, and I know when they make their rounds of this section. I just hope with yesterday's escape they haven't changed their routine. It would be the logical thing to do, but I've also noticed they don't seem to think very logically.

I give Jack one last look, knowing this is for the best. He's already starting to become important to me and I just met him. I can't afford to get attached to someone here. Life is hard enough without having to deal with the possibility of losing someone I care about. No doubt he'll be angry with me for abusing his hospitality, but this really is for the best. Perhaps if I say the words enough, I'll actually begin to believe them.

I wake to find myself alone in my bed. Not that this is strange, but I distinctly remember Samantha being with me when I lay down. I just heard the last chime of what would have been my work day, so I know I've slept a long time. Looking around the confines of my small quarters, I don't see her. She's not using the "facilities," such as they, are and there's no place else she could go. It's then I realize her clothes are gone, and I spy my shirt draped over the bed at my feet, adding one more layer to the blankets.

Where could she be? I wonder. Why would she leave? Have I offended her in some way? Did I try something while I slept? What? I pull the shirt closer to me, burying my face in it. It carries a faint trace of her scent and I feel my heart wrench. God, I've only known this woman a day and I'm panicking when she can't be found. And how did she get away in the first place? Wouldn't one of the guards spot her leaving an area where she wasn't supposed to be? Surly I would have heard some commotion if that was the case.

I feel fear starting to rise within me again. What if she _*has*_ been taken by one of the guards? What if they suspect her to be an accomplice, simply because she wasn't in her assigned area? I run a hand through my hair, tossing the shirt over my head, reaching for my shoes. I have to know. I have to find out what happened to her, even if it means being caught myself for being out of my quarters during a lock-down. I can probably claim to be working with the "warden" of the mine should I get apprehended. I'll deal with that if it happens. Right now, all that matters is finding Samantha. And I don't know where to start looking. She's a worker in my section, but I have no idea where she "lives."

So far, so good. I haven't run into any guards or anyone who even looks up at my passing. As I near my alcove, I sigh with relief to see the thin mattress that comprises my bed is still there. Along with the one worn blanket. I practically dive under the cover, hoping to warm up. The dampness of my clothes has sapped the little bit of heat I've managed to regain. Shivering, I start to cough. I don't have to be a genius to realize if I don't warm up soon, it's only going to get worse. Huddled in my corner, I realize I've missed the nightly meal bars, and the only food I've had today has been a bowl of watery soup Jack made me. It's going to be hard to generate some heat when I've barely eaten.

I try to shut the thought of Jack from my mind. As miserable as I am right now, it would be easy to overlook the reasons why I chose to leave him and the warmth he offered. I'm still tired, and no matter how cold I feel, I feel my fatigue catching up with me.

I just begin to doze off when I feel big, strong hands grab me by my upper arms, pushing my back onto the mattress as an icy, beefy hand gropes under my clothes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I scream, but he just laughs as the people around me look in my direction, then lay back down to sleep. I can't believe they're going to just lie there while this. . .beast rapes me!

Suddenly, from seemingly no where, I remember moves to defend myself. My right foot shoots out, connecting solidly with his groin. Caught off guard, he crumples in pain, but not before grabbing me and dragging me to the icy floor with him. I'm coughing again, but manage to get my arm in position to elbow him hard in the ribs. It's enough for me to get free, but he's still reaching for me, missing my ankle by a hair's breadth. Just then I hear someone calling my name.

"Samantha!"

Jerking my head up, I see Jack running toward me, stepping over sleeping bodies in an effort to reach me. In the amount of time I look away to see Jack, the man is on his feet, grabbing me from behind, his arm locked around my neck, almost choking me.

Holding a sharp object to my neck, he warns Jack. "Back off. She's mine. Get your own woman."

"Well, there's a little problem," Jack says as he slowly advances on the giant holding me. "You see, she _*is*_ my woman." I feel a rumble in the man's chest as he laughs.

"Then why is she alone? I haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm new."

"I've been watching this one for weeks. Last night was the first night she hasn't been in her spot. Now she's going to share it with me."

"Oh, I don't think so," Jack says as he continues to move closer to the smelly man pinning me to his body.

"Stay where you are! You come any closer and I'll slit her throat!"

"And what good would that do?" Jack asks, taking one more step forward. "If she's dead she can't give you what you want."

"Yeah, but she can't give it to you either," he sneered. Jack had walked so close, I could almost reach out and touch him. His eyes flick to me, and it seems to be some sort of signal. I blinked back, hoping I understood his meaning. Jack's arm snakes out to knock the make-shift knife from my attacker's hand as I drive my elbow into his already sore ribs. Attacked on two fronts, the man let his arm drop from around my neck and in an instant Jack pushes me behind him. Somehow he's managed to get possession of the "knife" and is now threatening my assailant.

"Now, we're going to have a little chat," Jack says, making sure his body is between me and the man. "You're going to leave her alone. Not just tonight, but all the time. If I find out you've been hassling her, it's not just me you're going to be dealing with, but the Warden as well. I have a great deal of influence with him. Perhaps you'd rather be working on the surface. . . .?" Jack threatens. As cold as it is in the mines, we've been told it's nothing compared to the conditions on the surface. Did Jack really have that kind of pull? I wonder. Or is he merely bluffing to get this "creature" to stop stalking me?

The man's posture relaxes and he takes a step back. "No problem," he says, casting a disgusted look in my direction. "I prefer my meat a little easier to chew."

Jack and I remain alert until we see him turn the corner into another section of the mine. Finally relaxing, Jack turns to face me at the same time I launch myself into his arms.

"Oh, God, Jack! I was so scared! I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along! No one here was going to help me! They would have just let that. . .that thing rape me!" Jack's arms close around me, holding me tight.

"You sure you're okay?" I nod my head vigorously as I bury my face into his shirt. The same shirt I was wearing earlier.

Gently he pushes me away. "What the hell were you thinking? Why did you leave?" I'm about to answer when I'm overcome by a coughing fit. The angry look on his face changes to one of concern as he pulls me in the direction of his quarters.

"Come on. We've got to get you warmed up. Anything you want to take with you?" Obviously he means for longer than just the night. I grab the blanket and a necklace that has my name and some numbers on it. I've found it's unique, as I've never seen anyone else wear anything like it. Normally I keep it with me, but for some reason I forgot to place the beaded chain around my neck yesterday. Funny how my "worldly possessions" have come down to a ratty blanket and an odd necklace.

God, I was scared! I finally found Samantha's alcove only to be greeted by the sight of my worst fears being realized. I have to admit, she was holding her own for a while, but the guy was just too big for her. I can't even think about what would have happened if I hadn't found her when I did. I doesn't matter how angry and hurt I am she left. She's safe for now. I have a feeling this isn't the end with this guy, but I think we bought a little time.

She's coughing again and her face is flushed. I hoped by getting her warm yesterday, I'd saved her from developing a fever. She probably wouldn't have gotten sick if she hadn't put on those damp clothes and ventured out into the cold again. Damn! I wonder if she's always this stubborn?

We walk in silence back to my quarters, the only time she speaks is to pull me back as guards approach.

"We have to stay here for a few minutes," she says. "They come back this way to get to the next section."

Her body is sagging against mine. Apparently fighting off her attacker took what little energy she had.

"Almost there," I reassure her once I see the guards pass by once more. If she could walk, it would be a matter of minutes, but I'm practically carrying her so it takes a good deal longer. Finally, the door to my room is in sight, and I manage to get her inside moments before we're spotted.

Laying her on the bed, I begin to remove her still-damp clothes, starting with her shoes. Somehow, tonight, this seems more personal. Maybe because I know her better. Although, if I knew her like I thought I did, I wouldn't have thought she would have left by slipping out while I slept. I probably should have looked to see if anything was missing, but she doesn't strike me as a thief. She certainly didn't stage a fall into the river just to gain access to my room.

Debating with myself, I give her a gentle shake to rouse her. "Samantha. You have to get out of these damp clothes."

She opens her eyes, but I can see she's not really focusing. I help her to sit, then to stand, telling her to go behind the curtain I rigged up and remove her clothes, handing her my shirt once more. I hear her movements, but keep my eyes elsewhere in case she needs extra privacy.

"Mmmm," I hear her mumble. ". . .shirt smells good. Smells like you. . ." I feel a bit self-conscious at her words. She probably doesn't even realize what she's saying, but it makes me feel good just the same.

"Done," she says, stepping uneasily away from the curtain. My arm is out before she can lose her balance and collapse to the floor. Leaning heavily on my side, she lays her head on my shoulder.

"Thank you for saving me," she says, eyes drooping closed once more.

"Not a problem, but let's not make a habit of it, okay? I can only fend off so many gigantic suitors." My joke passes unremarked as I place a hand on her forehead. She's burning up, and there's nothing I can do but try to regulate her temperature and break the fever. I have no medications, and I wonder if all my efforts to save this woman are going to be in vain. Laying her on the bed, I pull the covers over her, but she fights them.

". . .hot . . ." she mutters.

"I know. It'll be better soon," I say, hoping I'm not lying.

I want to ask her why she left, why she felt she couldn't stay with me, but she's not coherent. As I begin to melt ice to force some liquid into her, I watch Samantha thrashing on the bed. She seemed happy to see me, but was that because I was her only salvation? She didn't, and hasn't reacted like she's upset with me, still, I can't figure out what prompted her to go. Sighing, I realize it's going to be a long night.

I was so hot, then I was so cold I never thought my teeth would stop chattering. Jack told me I had a fever, and now that it had broke, I was probably going to be colder than ever since I'd sweated through his shirt. I feel bad for him, holding me close, trying to warm me up when, no doubt, I smell extremely rank.

I open my eyes and see the room clearly for the first time since he brought me back. I remember being attacked by a big guy and Jack suddenly appearing like some avenging angel, spiriting me back to his quarters. I don't remember anything with clarity after that. Somehow I ended up back in his shirt and my clothes are in their now customary place near the fire.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, brushing the stringy hair back from my brow.

"Like I could use a drink and a bath, but not necessarily in that order."

He smiles at me, then says, "you had me worried, Samantha. In more ways than one."

I know what he's implying and I feel guilty for causing him grief, but at the time, I really _*did*_ think it was for the best. Now I'm not so sure. Not only would I have avoided getting sick, but I wouldn't have had an encounter with The Incredible Hulk. I just don't know why he cares so much when he hasn't made any demands on me. I think if he did, I wouldn't fight him. Not only is he attractive, but his gentleness draws me in as well. Maybe he hasn't made a move on me because he's being polite, or maybe he just enjoys the company. I know _*I*_ do, but I know he has needs that go beyond companionship, and it can't be easy to lie in a bed with a half-clad woman, two nights running and not have some desires.

"Why did you leave?" he asks, pulling the covers up even higher around my neck.

"I. . .I thought it would be better to go back where I belonged," I stutter, not quite able to look into his questioning eyes.

"Is it me? Have I offended you in some way?"

"God, no!" I cry, sitting up, placing my hand on his chest. "All you've been is kind and considerate. I guess I was a little scared how safe you made me feel. It's not a good idea to get close to people here. Part of the reason I haven't really tried," I confess, feeling his heart beat beneath my palm. He covers my hand with his own, nodding his head in agreement.

"I know. I've always stuck pretty much to myself. Meeting you is not what I had planned." His eyes are boring into mine, and I wonder if his words have a double meaning.

"And what did you have planned?" I ask, barely above a whisper.

"Well, a room mate wasn't one of them," he smiles. He looks away and the tension that's grown between us seems to dissipate. "I'll get you that drink."

It must be very late, or very early as the lights are all still out. I hear Jack fumbling for the melted ice water he must have made earlier, watching the shadows on the walls as he opens up the small stove, adding more coal to the fire. The reflections of orange flames dance across his chest, and for a moment I wonder what it would feel like to trace the contours of his muscles the shadows are caressing. I must still be feverish, I decide. I haven't had a lustful thought since I can remember, but then, I hadn't met Jack before.

He hands me a cup of water which I down immediately, holding out the vessel for more.

"You should take it easy, don't drink it so fast or you won't keep it down." I vow to sip the next one and do my best not to gulp the icy liquid.

"I wish there was some way I could clean up," I said, pulling Jack's soggy shirt from my chest.

"I can heat up some of the water. It won't be a true bath, but you could at least wipe some of the sweat away." I thank him as I get up to check the status of my clothing. It feels dry now, drier than the shirt I wear, but I want the chance to wash before I put on semi-clean clothes. I can't offer Jack my recently dried shirt as I need it. Besides, it would be too small for him, but the over shirt would fit him. I want to wash out his top before I return it to him, and he's going to need something to wear while his dries.

"At least we don't have to work again today," he says, initiating conversation. "It'll give you a chance to rest some more."

I feel he's chiding me in some way for my "setback," and I look away. "Yeah, It's not going to be easy trying to make up for what we missed."

While we wait for the water to heat, we talk about the mine, how the guy who escaped did it, and if it could be done again. I ask him if he really does have connections "upstairs" but he just smiles and shrugs.

"Maybe."

Lights come on sometime while we talk, and I wish the water had warmed faster. I would feel better exposing myself in the dark, rather than in the harsh light that is our day. Jack seems to sense my apprehension and busies himself making his bed, refreshing it as best he can by placing sweaty blankets nearer the fire to dry. Looking up, Jack notices I'm washing his shirt in what remains of my bath water and starts to protest.

"Hey! That's my only shirt!"

"I know, which is why it needs to be cleaned," I tell him, wringing out the sodden material. "You can wear my outer shirt until this is dry."

"Well, you've taken right over the domesticity of these quarters, haven't you?" he teases. At least I assume he's teasing by the way he's grinning at me.

"It can use a woman's touch," I smile back.

He steps closer to me and places a warm hand on my shoulder. "I hope that means you're going to stay."

I glance at the floor, feeling a blush creeping into my cheeks. "I'd like to."

"There was never a question, Samantha."

We've spent the whole day in bed. Not in the typical sense, but as a way to keep warm. The outer doors to the mine must have been open a lot more than usual with the investigation, as the tunnels have become even colder than they are ordinarily.

Samantha fell asleep almost immediately after we put the bed back together; even her small labors wore her out. I wonder what's going to happen tomorrow when she has to go back to mining. Fortunately, she has this day to recuperate, but she's still going to be weak. If there was some way I could get her a medical leave, I would, but I don't recall anyone ever having been grated that dispensation.

I look down at the blonde head resting on my chest, wishing this day could go on forever. I wonder if she realizes she cuddled herself to me in her sleep? At first her arm slung across my waist startled me, then she moved her leg to drape over mine, creating a tangle of our limbs. I'm surprised to find she's still asleep, and wonder if she knows how possessive her posture is. Automatically, my arms encircle her, holding her as she sleeps. I've had enough rest, but Samantha needs more sleep and I'm more than willing to be her pillow.

The atmosphere in the tunnels today is cautious. No one wants to be accused of slacking off, so everyone is on their best behavior, meeting the new quotas without complaint. I know tomorrow things will be back to normal, but for today there's an unusual spirit of co-operation. If only this morale could be retained, we'd get more work done and maybe get more than half a cycle off on the eighth day-the day we get our one hot meal.

I glance over at Jack, trying to act like I'm not watching him, as he pretends to ignore me. I know he's watching me closely, looking for signs of fatigue. I'm tired, but I won't make someone else on our team take up my slack. Not that I'm really acquainted with any of these guys, but I know them better than the rest of the people in the mines just because I'm with them so much.

I'm surprised to see a new man joining our crew. The guard says a few words to Jack, then points the man toward the area where I'm working. I give him a small smile as I move a bit to make room for him. I find myself leery of the river even though it's several feet away; I don't need a repeat of my accident.

The man starts picking away at the ore, blank look on his face, but his eyes are moving, as if he's so busy thinking, he's unaware what his hands are doing. I haven't seen the look on many people's faces. Most of them have a blank, glazed look like the only thing they think about is the next chime and when the next meal bar is coming. Jack doesn't have that look, and neither does this man, and I wonder if there's some connection.

Suddenly the new guy turns to me. "Sam? Is your name Sam?" he asks. I'm caught off guard. The necklace I have says "Carter, Samantha," even though the name I go by is second. Has he seen it some how? I certainly hadn't met this man before, and yet he's calling me by a shortened version of my name, and it feels . . .familiar.

"Um, no, actually it's. . ."

"Back to work!" Jack yells at the new guy. "No talking!" I give him a hard stare, trying to tell Jack he wasn't bothering me, but after the events of the day before, he's being over-protective.

"I was just asking if her name is 'Sam,'" the man says, apparently trying to get himself into even more trouble. Jack's told me he doesn't like to reprimand people, but if he doesn't, and we don't meet our quota, everyone suffers.

"Her name is none of your concern," Jack says with more venom than necessary. One sentence from this man and he's jealous. I might find it flattering if the guy had really done something worthy of jealousy, but all he did was ask my name.

"I thought I told you to get back to work!"

The man turns his attention back to the rock face, but not before whispering, "my name's Daniel. And I don't know how, but I'm sure I know you."

I don't like this guy. And I especially don't like the way he's looking at Samantha. On the one hand, I can hardly blame him. Even dirty and tired she still strikes me as one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Okay, so maybe there's not a lot to compare her to here, but it seems from the day I first saw her, I was captivated.

I hear him tell Samantha his name is Daniel. Doesn't ring any bells, but she keeps looking at him, as if she can almost decide where she might know him from. It has to be another section of the mines-it's all any of us seem to remember.

Finally, the last chime of the day comes and I'm able to take Samantha back to my room so she can get some much needed rest. Toward the end of her shift it was almost all she could do to lift the pick-ax and attempt to chip away at the wall of the mine. I noticed this Daniel tried to help her, tossing some of the ore he mined onto her pile. I guess he doesn't know I'll cover for her if her quota isn't up to par. For trying to help, I almost forgive his attention to her. Almost.

Samantha and I walk in different directions, and will meet up at the end of the next tunnel. We agreed to do this so we don't look like we're "together." If two members of a team were found to be interested in each other-especially when one is a supervisor-they're soon split up, and I can't let them take her away from me. Hell, I'm nervous she's going to run into that guy from yesterday, let alone what could happen to her if she's transferred out of my section.

I get to our rendezvous point first, only to find her chatting with the new guy. Here one day and he's already moving in on my territory? Samantha must sense my hostility for she places a reassuring hand on my arm as she introduces us.

"Jack, this is Daniel. He thinks he knows me from before!" Her voice sounds excited as she pulls the man forward. He seems apprehensive to meet me, which is good. Just remember who she's with buddy. . . . When I don't respond, she continues.

"It's nothing specific, but like us, he thinks we did something before, something more important." Ten minutes with this guy and she knows all this already?

"I think I remember you too, Jack," he says, obviously trying to make nice. Lowering his voice he adds, "and I was friends with the guy who escaped. His name was Teal'c."

"Teal'c? What the hell kinda name is that?"

"Maybe he's not from around here," Samantha says.

"I think we all knew each other," Daniel whispers.

I look him up and down. Cracked glasses that partially conceal intelligent, blue eyes. His eyes remind me a bit of Samantha's. Not just the similar color, but the fire that burns within them He _*seems*_ sincere. I can't see what he'd gain by making this up, unless he thinks if we're friends I'll be easier on him at work. Boy, has he got _*that*_ wrong.

"We can't talk here," I say. "Samantha and I will go to my quarters, it's the third door on the left. Wait five minutes, then come. Make sure no one sees you." Daniel nods as I guide Samantha to my door. She waits until we're inside to speak.

"You don't trust him," she says.

"Well, it's a little odd, don't you think? Day after the escape this guy shows up in my section claiming to know the guy who got away and he says he knows us too?"

"I don't think he's a spy, if that's what you mean," she says.

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if they sent someone. The Warden might even think your accident had been staged as a diversion while that Teal'c guy escaped."

"I don't think so, I mean if he thought that, wouldn't he have sent someone to investigate when I fell in the river? No one came, even the guard just turned his back. You're the only one who cared if I lived or died."

I take two strides, closing the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her. "I won't let anyone hurt you. That includes this Daniel guy."

She pulls out of my embrace, placing her hand on my cheek. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I really don't think Daniel is a threat. On any level," she says, staring into my eyes. I got the message loud and clear: back off on the jealousy thing. Well, it's a little hard when she's come to mean so much to me. But she's right. If I don't cool it, I could lose her.

Just then there's a soft knock on my door, causing Samantha to jump.

"Probably just your buddy," I smile at her as I open the door, quickly admitting Daniel. His eyes roam my room before coming to rest on me.

"Nice," he says.

"It's home," I shrug.

"Not really."

"And why do you say that?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Because I don't think I. . .we belong here."

"I'm sure every prisoner feels that way," I say, motioning him to the one chair in the room as Samantha and I take a seat on the bed.

"Can you remember what you did? I mean to get put here? It must have been pretty bad to warrant this," he says motioning around the room. "Although you seem to have it better than most." I'm about to defend my right to better accommodations when Samantha steps in.

"Daniel said his friend Teal'c could remember what he did before, or at least parts of it. He said he was part of a team, and Daniel was part of it too. Along with two other people, but he didn't know who they were. Jack! I think we're those two people!"

I look at her, wondering how she got this much information on her short journey to our meeting spot. And how she figures out of all the people here, we're the two this guy is looking for. I must look skeptical, because she says,

"How else would he know my name?"

"He calls you 'Sam,'" I say. "You told me your name is 'Samantha.'"

"Sam's the short version. I don't know how to explain it, but it feels right when he call me that."

I'm still not convinced. It all just seems so coincidental to me. The guy _*does*_ seem slightly familiar, but I've probably just seen him in passing. After being here this long, I'm sure I've seen everyone here at one time or another.

Sam stands, and searches through her pants pocket, pulling out a beaded chain with two silver oval objects attached.

"Have you seen anything like this before?" she asks, handing him the necklace. Daniel's face looks puzzled, but I can't believe I see what he holds in his hands. I've got a similar chain, but I've never seen anyone else with one.

"Let me see that!" I cry, snatching the chain out of Daniel's grasp.

"What?" he asks. "You know what this is?"

"I'm not sure, but I have one too!" I go to the box which holds what few trinkets I've collected that have some meaning to me, and remove my necklace. I compare the oval objects which are identical except for the words embossed on them. Samantha is at my side, exclaiming over the discovery.

"I thought I was the only one who had this! No one else has one!"

I look at Daniel. "You're sure you've never seen anything like this before?"

"Not that I can remember. How long have you guys known each other? Maybe you worked in another mine together and this was their way of identifying you."

"I met Samantha two days ago when I pulled her out of the river," I tell him, staring in wonder at the two sets of chains.

"Two days?" Daniel asks, raising his eye brows. "You guys seem awfully close for knowing each other only a couple of days."

"So we had a lot of time to talk during the lock-down," I answer defensively.

"I'm just saying, maybe the reason you seem to know each other so well is that you knew her before."

"I suppose it is possible," Samantha says. "After all, it _*is*_ a little odd that we'd both have these necklaces when no one else does."

"So, Sam, how did you end up in the river?" Daniel asks. She relays the story to him as I turn the pieces of metal over, hoping to find some clue about their origin. I run my fingers over Samantha's, lingering on the word "Carter." Somehow this name seems more familiar to me than the name she goes by. I almost know what it means, but before I can grasp it, the thought slips away. That's how it is with so many things here. Almost-memories, glimpses of things you're not sure you've seen or if you've made them up.

"Okay, so what if we were part of some kind of 'team' with you and the guy that got away. What would we have done?" I ask.

Daniel stands, starting to pace the confines of my small room. "I'm not sure, I mean I don't know for sure. All I know is it was more important than picking rocks!" At the word "rocks," I look up. Something about rocks, and talking to this man about them-him saying something about them not being rocks. Again the flash is gone, and I shake my head to clear the image.

"Say I believe you-and I'm not sure I do-but what good does that do us? How do we find a way out of here?"

Daniel's hand is poised before his mouth as he chews on his thumb nail. "We have to get someone working on the 'outside.' Someone who can get more information about this mine and how it's run."

"And if there's someplace to go once we get out," I add.

"So, how do we do that?" Samantha asks.

I try to think who comes to the mine we can talk to, or use. Then it hits me: the science guys. They come about every thirty cycles to assess the mines, make decisions about what tunnels to keep, which have played out. I see them on a regular basis. As a supervisor, I talk with them about production. I can't say I know them, but they listen to my opinions, or at least seem to. I tell Samantha and Daniel my thoughts, but I'm stuck for a plan to get the inspectors to take me out of the mine. The trouble is, I don't know much about the ore, other than being able to recognize it.

"Maybe it could be someone else," Daniel says, "someone who _*does*_ know something about it."

"You seem to know quite a bit about it," I say. "Maybe you should be the one to go."

"I was thinking more of Sam," he says.

"Me?" Samantha asks, her head popping up at the mention of her name. "Why me?"

"Well, several reasons, actually," Daniel says, pushing up his mangled glasses. "First off, being a woman they're more likely to trust you. They wouldn't expect a woman to be planning a prison break." I can see this type of chauvinistic reasoning isn't sitting well with Samantha, but Daniel has a point: there are so few women here, the thought of them organizing a revolt seems more remote than the men.

"Remember when you were telling me how you think about ways to improve production? That's the kind of stuff they do," I tell Samantha. "I think I could talk them into listening to your ideas. You could be the one to gather information about how this place is run."

I can see Samantha thinking over the possibilities. I want her out of the mines for more reasons than just the reconnaissance. Judging from their appearance, the scientists eat better and have more heat than we do in the mines. At least their clothing suggests they don't live in the same cold temperatures we do. She would be treated better. Even if we don't get out, it would be an improvement over what she has now.

The bad news is, she would be gone. Unless we escape, I doubt I'd ever see her again. That thought sends a stabbing pain to my heart, but could I deny her the chance to lead a better life just because I'd miss her?

"I suppose I could do it," she says, giving me a confused look. She looks to Daniel and then back to me. "If you think this would be the best way."

Daniel nods his head enthusiastically, trying to convince her it will work, while I try to convince myself I can live without her.

I try to hold onto the thought both Daniel and Jack think I'm the best candidate for our plan, and that's the reason he wants me to go. If this works, I'll be leaving the mine. Leaving Jack. I want to tell him I don't care about getting out of here if it means I have to live without him, even if it might be temporary. But then there's Daniel to consider. He shouldn't have to stay here just because I don't want to leave Jack. And what if he's right? That what I've felt all along, that we're part of something bigger, is true? Can any of us stay here knowing there's more for us out there?

Jack looks as dejected as I feel. I know I shouldn't be having this reaction, feeling as if my heart is being ripped out, but I can't help it. I've only known him for a few days and already I can't conceive a life without him. This is what I was afraid of. The reason why I left the other day, but even then it was too late.

"When are they supposed to come down here?" I ask, hoping Jack will tell me it's many cycles away and we'll have more time before I try to make the scientists take me with them.

"By my calculations, it should be a few cycles," he says, looking at me with sad eyes.

"That doesn't give us much time," Daniel says, still plotting.

"No, it doesn't," I say, gazing back at Jack. He knows what I'm trying to say, and if it's possible, I think he looks even more upset.

We talk some more, getting our stories straight, working on what I'll say to the inspectors to get their attention. All the while we plan, Jack holds my hand, we both seem to need the contact, like we're storing it up for later, when we'll be apart. I hope it won't be for long. I guess it all depends on Jack. If he can convince the scientists they need me, and how good I am at gathering information. I don't seem to be very good at mining; maybe I'll have better luck as a spy.

I keep waiting for Daniel to leave, but he seems bent on hammering out every last detail of our plan. I don't know how many times I told him there's too many variables, that we'll just have to go with the flow, but the guy still won't go. I have so short a time left with Samantha, I don't want to spend it sharing her with him! Finally, I tell him he should go or he'll miss his rations, or worse yet, the guards will report him missing. This seems to penetrate his pre-occupied mind, and he quickly rises.

"You're right. I hope I haven't been gone too long already."

I reassure him he still has time if goes. Now. It takes a moment, but he gets my meaning. He mumbles something about seeing us tomorrow, then he's gone.

Samantha and I stare at each other a little self-consciously. This is the first time we've been alone all day, and we both feel a little awkward.

"I should make us something to eat," she says, heading for my meager food stores.

"Samantha, wait," I say, pulling on our connected hands. She turns and looks at me, flashing a small smile as I draw her closer. "I thought he was never going to leave," I tell her, holding her body against mine. I want to kiss her so badly, but I don't want her to think I'm taking advantage of our situation. Her arms are wound around my waist, her cheek resting on my chest. Without realizing what I'm doing, I find myself nuzzling her hair, placing a kiss on the top of her head. Her hands begin to move up my back, short nails digging in as she moves up my spine. Tilting her head back, she gives me a look I can't resist. She wants me to kiss her. Maybe as much as I want to. Before reason can kick in, I lower my lips to hers, touching her lightly at first, then delving deeper as I feel her fingers clutching my back.

We break for a moment to catch our breath, then resume our positions, each eagerly taking what the other is offering. Somewhere in my dazed brain I hear a voice. This isn't right. This isn't the time. She'll be leaving soon and it'll only be worse if you're more involved. Worse for both of us.

Reluctantly, I tear myself from her willing mouth. She opens her eyes, silently questioning why I've retreated from her. Samantha tries to move closer again, but I place my hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away.

"What's wrong?" her voice sounds hurt, wondering what she's done to cause me to back off.

"Nothing," I sigh. "It's nothing you've done," I tell her as a disengage myself from her arms.

"Then what. . . ."

"Samantha, I just met you, and yet I've got these overwhelming feelings for you. I just think maybe it would be a good idea if we slow down a bit."

She smiles at me. "I never thought I'd hear that from a guy."

I return her smile. "Yeah, I guess it isn't typical, is it? But I'm serious. I care about you too much for this to be casual. When the time is right, we'll know it."

"I think it felt pretty right about a minute ago," she grins, ducking her head.

I give her a hug and chaste peck on the forehead. "I think that's part of the problem. I could lose myself in you and there's too much at stake." She pulls away then, silently resuming the chore of making soup, but not before I see tears sparkling on her lashes.

Damn, him anyway! Two days ago I was thanking God he was an honorable guy and tonight I'm cursing the same God for making him so virtuous! He's right of course, maybe that's why I feel so frustrated. It would be so easy to give up, stay here as long as I have him. . . .

But that could change at any minute. If my accident taught me nothing else, it showed me how quickly things can shift from safe one moment to near-death the next. Part of that fuels an argument for not holding back. Shouldn't we live for the moment?

As I heat water, I watch Jack puttering around the room. He slips the chain he has over his head and hands me mine. Looking at the silver tags with my name, I think how ironic it is he's the one who rescued me. Out of all the people in this mine, we were thrown together. Surely that must mean something.

As is becoming our habit, we share a bowl of soup along with our rations, under the covers of Jack's bed. Most of our earlier tension has ebbed away, but there's still something in his eyes when he looks at me. The same thing I'm sure is reflected in mine-a slow burning desire that we've agreed to put on hold, at least for now.

I can't believe how exhausted I am. The cold, the work, the excitement of possible escape. all seem to hit at once, and it's impossible to keep my eyes open. Jack takes the bowl from me, placing it on the floor. He draws me close, and we assume the positions we have for the last two nights as he tugs the blankets over us. I want to stay awake, to spend as much time with him as I can, but the strain of the day is just too much, and I slip into sleep.

The last few cycles have been some of the best I've had since coming to this place, and at the same time, they've been the hardest. Samantha and I grow closer with each passing cycle, and it becomes more and more difficult to stick to my resolve about "waiting for the time to be right." What if there never is a right time? I expect the inspectors today, and if they do arrive, this could be the last day I see her. Maybe forever. I can't let myself think this way. She's smart, she's capable. She's going to find a way out of this place for us. Maybe everyone. I'm even beginning to trust this Daniel guy more. Maybe it's Samantha's confidence in him that's wearing off on me. It's hard to hate a guy she so obviously likes. He hasn't made any moves on her, so maybe that's why I find myself relenting in my attitude.

I return to working the rock face when I hear a voice behind me.

"You, Supervisor," I hear a man call. "What is the number of this section?"

Laying my ax down, I approach the man, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. "Twenty-seven," I answer. The group of three nods their heads as if they're agreeing with me while they check their charts. I see the workers stop, curious about the newcomers.

"Back to work!" I shout, trying to sound authoritative. I don't want these people to think I don't have control over my section, otherwise they might not listen to me.

"A good strong vein of Borozite," one comments, running his fingers over the rock face. "We should definitely keep this one," he says, marking something on his chart. They're about to leave when I speak up.

"Excuse me, I know it's none of my concern, but I noticed your group is smaller this time." The three exchange glances, wondering why a miner, a prisoner at that, would presume to speak to them.

"Yes," the leader of the scientists says as he starts to walk past me. Quickly I point to Samantha.

"That one there? The woman? She knows things. Science things. She's figured out how much ore this tunnel will produce and how long it'll take to mine it."

"Oh, really," the man says, turning to face Samantha. "And how did you, a mere miner figure this out?"

"Well, Sir, it's based on a formula I came up with, I could tell you about it if you like." The man looks at his colleagues, obviously intrigued, but all I can think of at the moment is her use of the word, "sir." It's not uncommon, and it _*is*_ appropriate for her to use it in this context, but it sounds familiar. Too familiar somehow. Daniel must have noticed it too, because his head turns around when she says it. Our eyes meet, and for a moment I think I have a memory of something, but then it's gone. Maybe Daniel remembers something I don't.

Samantha steps away from her work area to explain how she came up with her theory, and damn if she doesn't sound convincing. She is one hell of an actress. After all, she couldn't _*really*_ know this stuff, could she? I watch the faces of the scientists, and it's clear she's impressing them. I'm so proud of her, not only for carrying off our plan with such finesse, but because of who she is. God help me, I think I've fallen in love with her. What a time to find out. If their faces are anything to go by, they'll be taking her away from me. Maybe for good.

"Supervisor!" The man calls again. "We need this worker, but she will be replaced."

I swallow, trying to find my voice, but I can't seem to say anything as my eyes meet hers.

"For your keen observation, and bringing this woman to our attention, you'll receive a bonus of extra rations. I'll tell the Warden of your good work here." He doesn't exactly smile, but he's obviously glad I gave him the opportunity to impress the Warden.

Before they can take her, Samantha rushes over to Daniel, giving him a quick hug. "Take care of him," I hear her tell him, even though she's whispering. Daniel nods, trying to not let his emotions get the best of him. Then she comes to me. Since there's no longer a threat of re-assignment, we hug without reserve.

"Take care of yourself," she whispers in my ear. "And look out for Daniel. He's really not such a bad guy." I squeeze her tighter, wanting to tell her of my sudden revelation that I love her, but I can't bring myself to say the words just yet. The feeling is too new.

"You take care of yourself too. I'm going to miss you."

"Me too," she says as the leader of the inspectors clears his throat. Reluctantly, she pulls herself away, and follows them, but not before giving us both a final look and wave good-bye.

I didn't think it was going to be so hard to leave them. Leave him. I have to admit, it's almost worth it for look that crossed Jack's face when I start spouting my theories. I bet he didn't know I had it in me. Well, I _*told*_ him my mind wanders when I work in the mines. . . . Maybe it's the shocked look, or just knowing I'm winning these guys over that makes me realize this is it-they're going to take me with them. Away from Daniel. Away from Jack. I've never fought the attraction I've felt for Jack, but in the instant I see dazed look on his face, I know it's something more. That I love him. In a matter of days I've gone from speaking to no one, to loving this man so much it hurts. Hell of a time to realize it when I'm leaving.

The leader says I don't need to take anything with me, that I'll receive new clothing, a new place to live-essentially a new life-when we reach the surface. A week ago I would have been thrilled, but now the thought of improving my situation hardly matters. Somehow it doesn't seem fair. There are a lot of good people here who deserve this just as much as I do. Okay, so there's some not so deserving people here like that guy who attacked me, but it makes me wonder how many people there are like Daniel, Jack and I who somehow know we didn't do anything wrong to end up here. Could this be where they put anyone who doesn't fit their mold of what a perfect citizen should be? I guess I'll find out soon enough. I have to keep my eyes open for anything I can use to get us out of here.

It's been one rotation of cycles-what is our week-since Samantha left, and there isn't a moment I don't miss her. Although, I have to admit, it's made room for me to change my mind about Daniel. We've actually had some good conversations, some even went beyond the subject of Samantha. It's not easy to avoid bringing up her name when she's all I think about.

I wonder how she's doing, if they're treating her okay and if she misses me half as much as I miss her.

They did send someone to replace Samantha in my section, but there's nothing remarkable about him. Just another worker. Even Daniel hasn't talked to him and he talks to everyone.

Daniel and I stand in line, waiting for the hot food to be passed out, although, by the time we get ours, it'll be lukewarm at best. I can take it back to my room and heat it some more. Maybe I'll ask Daniel to join me. I'm about to offer, when I see a blonde head amongst the "caterers," pushing forward through the sea of people waiting for food. My breath catches-could it be Samantha? Or am I starting to hallucinate because I miss her so much?

"Daniel, does that look like. . ."

"Sam!" he cries, breaking out of the line, rushing toward Samantha as she struggles to get to him.

"Daniel! Colonel!" she cries and I look around, wondering who this "Kernal" is she's looking for. "General! Teal'c! They're over here!" I recognize Teal'c's name because of Daniel mentioning him, but who is this "general?" Is he one of the people she works with now? What is she doing back here in the mine? And with the guy who escaped? I guess he didn't get very far.

Daniel is pulling me along by my shirt, trying not to lose me in the crowd. Moments later Samantha is crushing him in a hug, telling him he was right, that we are a part of something bigger, a team called "SG-1" whatever the hell that is. She releases Daniel, stepping closer to me, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Colonel," she says, and I stare blankly at her. It's me she's calling that? I wait for her to come to me, but she hangs back and her reticence surprises me. Obviously she hasn't missed me as I have her.

"Jack," she finally says, and it's like a damn has burst. I rush forward and embrace her tightly, making sure she's real. I run my hands over her face, into her hair as I lower my head to kiss her, so glad to see her I don't even care how she's come to be here. Or who sees me kissing her.

For a moment she leans into the kiss, then she stiffens, as if she suddenly remembers where she is. I figure she's not too comfortable with public displays of affection, so I release her mouth, but I keep her hand clamped in mine.

An older, balding man steps forward, his gaze shifting between me and Samantha, causing her to blush. She's trying to take her hand from mine, but I won't have it. It's only been a week since I've seen her, but it feels like forever and I'm not letting her out of my sight.

"Colonel O'Neill, I'm glad to see you in relatively good health, Son," he says, clapping me on the shoulder with a warm hand. "Kernal?" I think, I'm this Kernal guy they keep talking about? And he called me "son." Is he my father? Actually from the looks he's giving Samantha, he seems to be more paternal towards her. Maybe he's her dad?

Instead of getting answers about what the hell is going on, I seem to be getting more questions. Daniel seems as confused as me, but he's more accepting, eagerly embracing a huge, dark-skinned man. Teal'c, from Daniel's description of him.

"Colonel, we're going to get you out of here," General says. "We'll explain everything once you're back at the SGC and Dr. Fraiser has had a chance to check you over."

I must look as dazed as I feel, because Samantha is gently tugging on my arm, leading me toward the entrance of the mine.

"Come on, Sir. You'll understand everything soon."

I look at her, wondering if this could possibly be the same woman I fell in love with. She looks the same, sounds the same, but she's so distant from me it's as if she's been replaced. And "sir?" What's with calling me _*that?*_ She's never been so formal with me even when we first met.

Suddenly I remember the box in my room. I don't have a lot of things in it, but they're important to me. I'm not going to leave them here for someone to scavenge.

"I'll be right back. I need something from my room," I tell her, still in shock that I'm actually going to be leaving, just like that.

"Make it quick, Colonel," I hear General call after me.

God, this is hard. Coming back here knowing who I really am is making this reunion with Jack doubly painful. I remember how intense my feeling were-are-for him, and yet now they're overlaid with this sense of responsibility. Especially in front of the General. When I first see Jack it's all I can do to stop myself from rushing into his arms. I've missed him so much. Even when I regained the memories of my true self, the ache to be with him didn't disappear. In fact, the pain seems to have gotten worse. Not only do I have "my" memories of the Colonel, I have "Samantha's" memories of Jack as well.

In order to keep from running to him, I go to Daniel, feeling freer to express my joy at seeing him. I know I'm hurting Jack, and it pains me, but the General is right here! And then Jack's kissing me. It's all I can do to break away from him before things really got out of hand and I get more than just a stern look from my senior C.O.

He says he's going to retrieve a box from his room. I know what box he means, even though I'm not sure what's in it. I want to tell him once he gets back home, he probably won't care about the box, but I could be wrong. Maybe he's going to want to remember this time here, for whatever reason.

"I'll go with him, Sir," I tell the General, jogging to catch up with Jack. He looks at me with the same hurt expression he gave me earlier, then says,

"Interesting outfit. Funny, I thought they'd give you something a little nicer."

I look down at my BDUs and realize they're only a slight step above what I wore in the mines. "I'm not working with the scientists, Jack. I met up with Teal'c and the General and they took me home."

He turns his head and gives me a disbelieving glance. I suppose I sound like a religious fanatic-"I have seen the light and now I am saved!"

"Look, Sir-Jack-I know it's a lot to take in on short notice, but I promise you, things will be clear in just a little while."

We reach his room and he holds the door open for me. "Why do you keep calling me 'sir?' And who's this Kernal guy you and General keep talking about?" I can't help but smile. I know when he remembers this he'll see the humor in it as well, but for now, there's nothing funny about his confusion.

"Colonel is your rank, and Sir is a form of respect," I tell him.

"Rank in what?"

"The Air Force, Sir," I wince at the fact I called him that again when it obviously makes him uncomfortable. "It's why we have these," I say, pulling out my dog tags to show him the beaded chain and silver embossed plates.

"So that's why we're the only ones to have these?" he asks, pulling out his own dog tags to look at them. "What about Daniel? He's not in this Air-Force?"

"No, he's a civilian and Teal'c. . .well, I think once we're home I'll tell you about Teal'c."

He looks up at me, then, his eyes darken with desire as he practically grabs me. He's kissing me almost before I realize he's doing it.

"Samantha," he sighs before his lips descend on mine again. "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you?"

Somehow my arms have found their way around him and I'm kissing him back. "I have some idea," I say as I lean in, opening my mouth to him. Suddenly the reality of the situation hits me right between the eyes. This is Colonel O'Neill! My commanding officer! Ever since I went "home," he's ceased to be "Jack." At least he was supposed to cease being Jack. Trouble is, when I'm alone with him, especially here, in his quarters where I fell in love with him for a second time, it's hard to think of him as "Colonel."

"We can't do this," I say, breaking away from him.

"Samantha?" he asks, puzzled by the mixed signals I've been giving him. "What happened to you once you left the mine? What did they do to you to make you forget how much we care for each other?"

His words make me want to cry. Ironic since it's the Denarans who made us forget who we really are in the first place. "They told me the truth," I say, wiping at my eyes before any tears actually fall.

"If this is the 'truth' you expect me to find outside the mine, I'm not sure I want to hear it. I love you, Samantha! I've been going crazy wondering where you were, if you were okay, and now you come back and you're not the same woman who left. It's like they brainwashed you! Why would I want to embrace this 'truth' if it's going to make me stop loving you?"

Holy Hannah! Can this get any harder? He loves me? He never told me he loved me! But then, did I ever tell him? Tell him how my day starts with thoughts of him and ends the same way? How most of my thoughts in between have something to do with him?

I can't face him as I say my next words. "Jack, I didn't say I feel any differently about you, only that I'm not supposed to love you. It's like here, when you told me we should walk separately so the guards and the others on our work crew didn't think we were involved. We were afraid of being split up. It's the same there."

My words sink in and I see Jack's shoulders sagging as he picks up his box of possessions. "I guess we better get back to the others. I can't wait to get back to my old life."

I want to reach out to him, reassure him things are going to be fine, but I can't. They aren't fine. And I wonder if they ever will be again.

I sit on a bed in a medical facility as a female doctor examines me. From the way she smiles and makes conversation, I gather we're acquainted, but I honestly don't remember anything about her. Samantha stands beside me. Not that I've given her much of an option. I haven't let go of her hand since we began our ascent from the mine. General keeps looking at us, and it make Samantha uncomfortable, but I'm not letting go.

I still can't believe stepping into a giant ring with what appeared to be filled with liquid brought us here. The thing that bothers me the most, though is the smiles and indulgent looks every gives me as I express my amazement at the things I see. Almost as if they're indulging a child. Well, maybe this is old hat for them, but it's the first time I've seen something like this and it's pretty damn unbelievable.

Samantha doesn't give me condescending looks, it's more gentle encouragement. If I'll just be patient a little longer all will be made clear. Just then this Dr. Fraiser steps up to me with a huge syringe, ejecting a small stream of liquid before reaching for my arm. Okay, I don't remember this place, but I _*do*_ know I don't like her coming at me with that thing!

"It's okay, Jack," Samantha soothes, running her hand up and down the arm not targeted for injection. "This will counter-act the drugs you were given on the planet." Planet? We were on another _*planet?*_ I'm so lost in Samantha's eyes, I don't even notice the needle entering my arm.

"You're going to feel sleepy, Colonel, but that's normal. Just lie back and allow the drug to work," the doctor tells me. I'm not scared, exactly, but I am apprehensive. I've seen what this "treatment" has done to Samantha, and now I'm not sure I want any answers. I don't want things to change with us.

She squeezes my hand, and I draw hers with mine to my chest, holding it there as I begin to drift off.

". . .love you. . ." he mutters as the drug takes effect. I look up to see if Janet's heard Jack's confession, and I see by the look on her face, she has. Well, it's not like it's the first time she's heard Jack and I acknowledge our feelings for one another. Although, when we were tested as za'tarcs, we weren't quite so explicit.

"Sam," she says, gazing at our joined hands, "you know nothing can come from this."

"I know," I say, blinking back tears. When Jack wakes up, he's going to be the Colonel again. Sir. I thought I was prepared for this. I thought I wanted him back the way he was, but I can't help remembering how much more open "Jack" was than the Colonel is. I told him he'd understand it all once he wakes up. I wonder if he will, because I don't seem to comprehend it. Oh, I now know the chain of events that got us mistakenly put in the mine, but I don't understand how, even brainwashed, we seemed to find each other.

I tried to explain to Janet what it was like, how it was possible to get so attached to a person so quickly, but I don't think she really grasps the nature of our existence there. I think you'd have to live through it to get it. I'm sure Daniel would know what I'm talking about. Although, he seemed more cognizant of what was really going on than Jack or I was. Maybe he didn't get as much of the drug as we did, or something in his system made him more resistant.

Looking over at the bed next to Jack's, I see Daniel sleeping from his antidote as well. When they wake up, they'll be fully briefed, just as I was yesterday. Was it only a day ago I was made to realize _*this*_ is my reality, and the "life" I shared with Jack was drug induced? When I think of the road ahead, I almost want to beg Janet to inject me again and give it back to me. . . .

I'm back. In every sense of the word. I feel a little silly now how I kept badgering Carter about answering my questions, but I guess even brainwashed I wanted all the answers _*now.*_ Doc says I'm fully recovered from the drug, but I need to work on putting some weight back on. Looking over at Daniel, I see he could use a few pounds too.

We're sitting in the briefing room, waiting for General Hammond, Teal'c and Carter to arrive. Carter. Christ, what a mess _*that*_ is. Okay, so maybe mess isn't the right word, but I'm apprehensive about seeing her. I haven't seen her since I've gotten "back." I remember our final moments in the infirmary, just before I fell asleep. The feel of her hand clutched to my chest. Actually, the real trouble is, I remember all of it. If the drug the Denarans used on us took away our memories, how come the antidote didn't do the same? I sure wish it would have. Well, maybe not. I got to know a whole other side to Samantha that I don't want to forget. One thing I _*do*_ need to forget, though, is thinking of her as "Samantha." She's Major Carter, or Carter, maybe even Sam, but not Samantha. She's a woman I have to leave in the mine, and I don't know how I'm going to do it.

Just then the trio we've been waiting for enters the briefing room. I start to stand, but the General waves me down. I look at Teal'c, a huge smile on my face as I acknowledge him. It's been about three months and it's good to see the big guy. At least the drug didn't mess with our perception of time. I guess if you were sent to the mine as punishment, the Denarans wanted you to realize how long you'd been there.

Cautiously I slide my glance to Carter, and her eyes are as wary as mine. Our gazes lock for a moment and I'm torn between feeling reassured and a stabbing pain. From her expression, she seems to be experiencing the same. I wish she'd sit next to me, but she moves to the other side of the table, across from Daniel. I know why she's done it, but it still stings.

Hammond starts the meeting off with a brief recap of why we went to Denar in the first place, which now I find extremely ironic: mining rights. They have excessive amounts of Trinium which they consider to be of little or no value and we were sent to sound them out on a possible alliance. During the summit with the planet's leaders, a riot broke out. Apparently there's some controversy amongst the citizens of Denar over how the mining of Borozite-an ore they _*do*_ consider being valuable-is being extracted. It must be something instinctual or maybe just plain stupidity, but when there's a fight we seem to get involved. There's hundreds of people taking part in this demonstration, and as Denar's police force shows up, SG-1 is separated and carried off to some processing facility. I now remember what happened to me personally, but I still have no clue about what happened on Hammond's end.

I, and presumably the rest of me team were subjected to a strip search. My clothes were taken, and I was issued the gray utilitarian outfit I wore in the mine. After that, there was a short physical exam, and I was injected with something. Not that I went along willingly with any of it, but they were used to resistance, and my meager efforts at escape were quickly put down.

My next memories were of waking in the mine, with just enough of my past intact to allow me to function. I'm not sure how I ended up a supervisor. Perhaps it was luck of the draw.

I look over at Daniel and see he remembers events as well. It seems while we were gone, Hammond and the leader of the Denarans had conducted an exhaustive search for us, but came up empty handed. Apparently Denaran record keeping leaves a bit to be desired. Especially when it comes to prison documents. We'd probably still be there if Teal'c hadn't escaped.

From what Hammond tells us, the "amnesia drug" only worked for a limited time on Teal'c, due to his symbiote. Soon after his breakout, Teal'c was captured while looking for the Stargate. Brought before the Prime Consulate, an aide recognized him as one of the people from the Earth delegation who'd been declared missing. Long story short, Hammond was contacted and he'd come back with a force to liberate the mine we were still being held captive in. Unfortunately, the Denaran leader would allow Hammond to extract our people only, which meant he had to find us amongst literally thousands of prisoners.

Teal'c gave him a place to start since he and Daniel had been placed in the same section, but it was still like finding a needle in a haystack. When I think of the odds now, I'm amazed Sam, Daniel and I ever met.

The first real break the rescue teams got was when someone spotted Sam leaving the mine with the science survey team. And because of more "red tape," it took them several days to get her released.

I sit back, trying to absorb all that's been revealed to me, and feel like laughing at how my life has been turned upside down. And all because of a nearly impossible sequence of events. The arresting officers should have noticed we were dressed differently; the doctors should have realized we weren't Denarans-especially Teal'c! But the rioting crowds had been unusually large, and it was more important to process new prisoners than make sure they hadn't been unjustly charged. How many times did they hear the pleas of people claiming they didn't belong there? Was it any wonder my protestations were ignored?

"Colonel, I can't tell you how sorry I am that this happened to you and your team, but there is an upside," Hammond says.

"And what is that, Sir?" I ask, wondering how anything good has come of this.

"The Denarans have been extremely accommodating in accepting our offer." I'll bet, I think bitterly. It's a little late to be sucking up to us now.

"That's good news, Sir," I answer, but I don't sound pleased in the least. How can I? I want to get back to work. Dive into another mission and forget the last three months of my life. Hammond won't do that, though. He thinks we all need some time to come to grips with what has happened to us. What good will the two weeks of downtime he's ordered do except make me go nuts? I don't want to "reflect." I *need* some distraction. Other wise, I know where my thoughts are going to be, and I can't go there. It's hard enough sitting in the room with her now. What's it going to be like when I've had two weeks of thinking of nothing but her?

Two weeks. Two weeks to have all to myself. How many times in the last months did I wish for just one day to myself? I still can't get over being warm. My feet and hands are actually warm. And the bath I took when I was assigned new quarters on the surface? I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Well, it would have been heaven if Jack hadn't still been laboring in the mine. The day the soldier recognized me, had been the day of my final deliverance, and my final damnation. Now I have two sets of memories, well, three if you count Jolinar. So I get two weeks to play with all of them.

It's been hard enough to be professional with the Colonel before this. Now I have these recollections of the man beneath the title, seen what he's like when he doesn't have the framework of the military surrounding him. And I liked what I saw. He's struggling with the same thing. I can see it in his eyes, and I don't know what I can do to ease the pain he feels. And I know how painful it is.

We leave the meeting, each going our separate ways, and I pray I'll be able to escape before he tries to talk to me, tries to tell me we can work around this. Sure we can, we'll just bury it along with the rest of the stuff we don't talk about.

My house seems almost alien to me. I guess it always feels a little "off" when I've been gone on extended mission, but this has been the longest I've been gone since I rejoined the Air Force. At least the kid I hire to cut the lawn has kept his end of the bargain. He probably wonders if he's ever going to get paid.

I sort through a mountain of mail, and the thought of the word "mountain" reminds me of the SGC, which of course, reminds me of Sam. Shaking my head, I pick out the obvious junk mail from the bills. On the back of a video advertisement is an ad for "Get Carter." In frustration I crumple the flyer, tossing it toward the garbage can, missing it by several inches.

Maybe the radio, I think, turning to a talk station.

". . .and that's the latest. This is Samantha Peterson, reporting." With a strangled cry I pull the plug from the radio, resisting the urge to smash it on the floor. Pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I try to calm down. Jesus! This is like playing that stupid six degrees game; everything seems to be six degrees to Sam!

Giving up on my mail, I wander through the house. It's dusty, but I can live with that. It's such a vast improvement over the room I had in the mine, I feel almost guilty for having so much. I never completely realized how fortunate I am to have the things I do. I've taken so much for granted over the years. Looking down at the crude box I carry, I have to smile when I think yesterday this was all I had in the world. Now look what I've got. I set the container on the coffee table almost reverently before continuing to my bedroom.

Taking a flying leap, I land on the bed, reveling in the size and comfort of the mattress. The only trouble is, it seems too big. It needs another person, but I won't let my mind wander to _*which*_ person. Maybe a shower. I had one at the base, but it's not the same as being at home.

After quickly shedding my clothes, I step into the needling spray, eyes closed. Suddenly, the image of Samantha's face comes to me. Not just thoughts of her from the mine, but from the time I've met her: the almost pushy Captain; the woman who won't let a child die alone in the dark; the woman who's pulled my ass out of the fire more times I can count; the freezing, soaking wet mine worker; the fever-wracked woman who shivers in my arms; the sensual woman who kissed me and made me completely forget the cold.

I pound my fist against the tile wall of the shower. How do I get her out of my head? Out of my heart? This "duality" is driving me insane. I was barely keeping it together when we admitted our feelings before. Now I have this other "life" she's the center of. How do I just turn that off? How do I forget how much I love her?

I wonder if Jack is having better luck than I am at finding distractions. There I go again, equating everything in terms of Jack. There was a time I would have an original thought, not an idea and how it relates to Jack. I feel as though I'm being consumed. Like Samantha Carter doesn't exist anymore unless it's in relation to Jack O'Neill. I don't want to "disappear." I don't want him to be so important to me that he's the motivation for everything I do. Maybe I need to go for a walk. After all that time underground, I can't seem to get enough of the sun. It's like I need to reassure myself it's there. I wonder if Jack feels that way?

See? There's a perfect example of why I need to develop an interest in something outside the SGC. Everything about my job leads me to thoughts of him. I can't even work on the naquadah reactor without conjuring up thoughts of Jack. No. Colonel O'Neill. He's Colonel O'Neill now and he's going to stay that way.

Grabbing my coat, I head out the door, out into the bright autumn sunshine. I want to go to a park, someplace where there are no people, only trees and grass and no icy rivers. It's a short walk through my neighborhood until I reach a city park. A nice, groomed area of nature where I can wander and get my thoughts together about where I go from here. In the distance I hear the laughter of children, and its sound gives me a warm feeling. I missed hearing kids when I was in the mine. I never realized before what a comforting sound it is. I always took the noise for granted, or wished they'd tone it down so I could think. Now I know what a blessing it is to be able to express joy at just being alive. No one did _*that*_ in the mine.

Thinking about kids reminds me of the conversation I had with Ja-the Colonel-about memories of our childhood. There it is again. Not even a random thought can pass without him coming to mind. Well, I'm just going to have to pretend this latest round of emotions doesn't exist either. I mean, I've done pretty well about hiding my feelings so far. It's been nearly two years since I admitted to myself I was in love with Jack. I've managed to work with him despite that fact. Even after the fiasco with Freya we were able to get back on solid ground. This will be no different. It's just going to take some getting used to. Yeah. right. He never told me he loved me before. He hinted at it, but he's never said the words. So maybe he won't remember he said then. Just like I've forgotten all the moments I've spent with him.

I rub run my fingers through my hair, wanting to yank it out. What the hell am I going to do?

I can't stand this anymore. It's only been a matter of hours since I've seen her but I can't take the distance any longer. How the hell did I live through that last week in the mine? Maybe it was knowing there was no way I could see her. But I can here. She's just down the road. A few minutes away. And what will I do when I see her? Wish her a good night and return home? Drag her off to bed? Well, I know that's what I'd _*like*_ to do, but I also know it's not going to happen. We both know it can't be that way.

Why the hell didn't I sleep with her when I had the opportunity? I was worried it would be so much harder to let her go after that. Harder than it's been? Well, I had my chance and I blew it. Get over it. Like I'm getting over thinking of her.

I have to see her. I don't know what good it'll do, but it can't hurt any worse than obsessing on her. All reason flies out the window as I drive over to her apartment. The sun is beginning to set and I'm stunned for the moment at the beauty of the colors. I never realized how much I missed seeing the patterns changing with each passing minute until this moment. There's no way seeing this could ever get old.

I knock on Sam's door, but there's no answer. I'm surprised. I would have thought after this much time away, she'd want to reacquaint herself with her home. I'm more disappointed than I though possible, when I see a blonde woman walking down the sidewalk. Even in the gathering twilight I know it's her. The gait is unmistakable, and it's all I can do to wait for her to reach her corner.

She looks up, and must recognize me as well, as her pace increases. "Colonel!" she breathes. "What are you doing here?"

I wince at the title. I was hoping we could remain "Jack and Samantha" away from the SGC.

"Well, I was in the neighbor. . . . Oh, bullshit! I missed you, Sam! I had to see you!" I'm surprised at the anger in my voice. She doesn't deserve it.

She moves closer to me, then backs off. "I missed you too. That's why I went for a walk. I thought maybe I could think of something else besides you," she whispers.

"Sam, this is ridiculous," I say, stepping forward and embracing her. "Avoiding each other obviously isn't working." She's stiff in my arms for a moment, trying to hold to her resolve, but soon she relaxes against me, and I give an audible sigh of relief.

"I can't believe how much I've missed you since this morning," she says.

"Me too," I tell her. "Look, it's apparent we need to talk, and I'd just as soon not do it out here on the street. Can we go to your place?"

She smiles and nods, leading me to her apartment. We still have our arms wrapped around each other. I tell myself it's because of the chill that's come since sunset, but compared to the temperature in the mine, this feels balmy.

Once inside, I move to sit on the couch. She's offered coffee and I accept. I think maybe we both need a moment to get our thoughts together before we start discussing.

She hands me a mug with a smile. "You know, I could have made some soup." I know she's trying to lighten the mood, but it backfires. All it does is remind me of how we'd huddle together to eat our evening meal. She's sitting in a chair diagonally from me, as if she's trying to keep a distance between us.

"How do you do it?" I ask, taking a sip of my coffee. She gives me a confused look and I elaborate. "How do you keep all the voices in your head straight? I mean this dual memory thing has got to be similar to what you go through with Jolinar. How do you keep from going nuts?"

She grins and ducks her head. "Well, now I've got a threesome going." Looking back up she says, "It's not the same with Jolinar. I mean I see and feel things she experienced. The 'dual memory thing' as you call it, is different, because it's been me who's lived both those lives."

"And that doesn't confuse you?"

"I didn't say that."

I lean back and sigh. "So. . . ."

"So. . . ." she repeats, running a finger around the rim of her coffee mug.

"I tried everything," I blurt out. "I scrubbed the bathroom twice. I even dusted for crying out loud! But I can't stop thinking about you. . .missing you," I finish quietly. She bites her lip and nods.

"I reorganized my cupboards," she confesses. "I don't know how many times I had to stop myself from picking up the phone."

"Why did you?"

She jumps to her feet, sloshing coffee out of her mug. "Why do you think I didn't? Jack, we can't be together, so what's the point? Although, judging from the looks General Hammond has been giving me, I think he thinks we slept together."

I stand, moving closer to her, and she doesn't move. Taking her coffee cup, I place it with mine on the table. "We should have, you know," I smile at her. "We had the perfect excuse-not remembering our commitment to the military."

Her eyes gaze into mine, reflecting a mixture of sadness and regret. "And who's fault was that?" she almost grinned. "You were the one continually playing Boy Scout."

"So, I was wrong," I say, taking another step closer. I can feel the heat radiating off her body as I reach for her. This time she backs away.

"So now I've got to be the Girl Scout," she says.

Does he have _*any*_ idea how hard it is for me to step away from him? I'm so torn, so close to giving in when the phone rings. Thank God. Saved by the bell. It's Daniel, asking if I've seen Jack. I'm about to tell him he's here when he shakes his head.

I tell Daniel I haven't seen him and make up some excuse where he might be. We talk a few minutes more, then hang up.

"Why didn't you want Daniel to know you were here? He's not going to say anything, if that's what you think."

"I know," he says. "But he might have wanted to come over."

"And this would be bad because. . . .?"

"I know I'm being selfish, but I want to spend some time with you. Just you. We aren't going to have many opportunities for that in the future."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you're going to find some way to always have someone in the room with us. A buffer, a chaperone." I start to protest, but he's right. He knows me so well. Too well.

"So what are you saying?" I ask, not sure what he wants or expects from me.

"Let me spend the night."

I almost choke on my response. "Were you even here for our conversation?"

"I just want to hold you, Sam. You trusted me before," he reminds me. Yeah, I think, but can I trust myself?

"Please, Samantha." He knows it's blackmail to call me that, and I hate him for exploiting my weakness.

"Damn you," I mutter, even as I'm stepping into his arms. He holds me so close I think he'll never let me go. But he has to let me go. And I have to release him as well. But not yet. Not tonight. I know we won't make love-we both have too much at stake-but that doesn't mean we don't have something to offer the other.

We don't speak as I pull him toward my bed room. All I do is remove my socks and shoes, and I watch as he does the same. I don't know why our feet touching seems so intimate to me. Maybe it's because our feet were the first bare skin we touched the night I fell into the freezing river. I crawl under the covers, waiting for him to climb in next to me.

It's strange, we have more clothing between us now than in the mine, yet I feel more revealed to him than ever. He pulls my head onto his chest as I tug the blankets over us, our feet caressing beneath the covers. Jack winds his fingers into my hair, gently massaging my neck and I find myself growing drowsy. This is what I needed, what we both needed. Just to be near one another. I wait for the day it'll be more, but for now this will have to do. As we take each day as it comes.

The End.


End file.
